


A Black Wedding Ring

by Winterblume



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterblume/pseuds/Winterblume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2012 Secret Santa Tomione Fic Exchange - gift for Mariico</p>
<p>It's 1944 and Hermione Granger is in her seventh and final year at Hogwarts. She's Head Girl, top student in most of her classes and is right in the middle of preparing for her NEWTs exams. Really, everything is quite alright for little Miss Know-It-All. If only it weren't for the Head Boy, Tom Riddle, who seems to be up to something...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm an Illusion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mariico](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariico/gifts), [Tomione_Forum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomione_Forum/gifts).



> Author’s Note: This fic is AU and Hermione is no time traveller. She was simply born some 50-odd years earlier than in canon and attends Hogwarts together with one Tom Riddle. Quite convenient, that, isn’t it? ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> Thanks a lot to Ozzy for beta reading this fic!!!!!

NEWTs were coming up.  _NEWTs, NEWTs, NEWTs._ There wasn’t much time left. Only a few measly months and then she would have to sit through her NEWTs. The thought alone made Hermione’s stomach clench in fear. Uncomfortably she shuffled in her seat in the Hogwarts library and nervously ran a hand through her bushy hair. She was already a nerve wreck and it wasn’t even March yet. What in Merlin’s name was she going to do in June?

_Probably fail_ , an evil little voice echoed through her head. Hermione groaned. She couldn’t fail. Not her NEWTs. What would her parents say? Or the teachers? They would all be so disappointed in her. No, failure was not an option! Hermione decidedly shook her head and grabbed her quill tighter. She would just have to put even more effort into her school work. Determinedly, Hermione’s eyes wandered over her half-written Potions essay. From now on, she would have to work harder.

Hermione’s inner pep-talk was interrupted by a voice, “Granger?”

She cringed, for she would recognize that smooth deep voice anywhere. Her nose crinkled and she looked as if she had bitten into a lemon… a rotten mouldy lemon, to be exact. Reluctantly, Hermione looked up. Sure enough, his majesty, Tom Riddle himself, stood beside her chair. If there was one downside to Hermione’s Head Girl-ship, then it was her male counterpart: Riddle.

As usual his silky black hair was combed to perfection, only a few stray strands hung attractively into his eyes. Hermione almost snorted. He had probably spent hours in front of a mirror to look like this, the vain git. Riddle ignored the sneer on Hermione’s face and instead smiled down at her charmingly. It made him look irritatingly handsome. Riddle’s facial features were fine with high cheekbones, pale skin and a strong jawline. The Hogwarts uniform hugged his tall frame nicely, showing some muscles. In general, though, Riddle was more on the wiry side. As Hermione stared at him through narrowed eyes, she had to admit that it really was no wonder Riddle was the heartthrob of the female population of Hogwarts. Yes, he  _could be_ what some  _might_  describe as handsome. A hint of a smirk formed around Riddle’s lips as he gazed down at her, obviously having noticed her eyeing him. Hermione glared darkly.  _As if_  she would ever fancy him.  _Ha!_

“What do you want, Riddle?” she snapped rather rudely.

The smirk on his face transformed into a polite smile. Hermione didn’t return the gesture. She really couldn’t be bothered by Riddle’s plastic smiles and empty affability.

“I simply wanted to tell you that there’s a Prefect meeting tomorrow at six,” the Slytherin replied silkily.

Hermione furrowed her brow. “No. There isn’t any meeting scheduled.”

His smile didn’t waver as he informed lightly, “There is now. I convened it.”

The familiar feeling of hot anger burned up in Hermione. Tom Riddle always seemed to have that effect on her. The worst thing was that he did it with such an innocent air that no-one would think there was a purpose behind his actions.

“You can’t just schedule meetings without consulting me first,” Hermione bristled through gritted teeth. “I’m Head Girl after all.”

Riddle’s eyes widened with honesty as he apologized, “Oh, I’m sorry. It simply slipped my mind.”

What exactly  _‘slipped his mind’_? That he needed to inform her? Or that she was Head Girl? Once again, the insult was so subtle Hermione couldn’t very well call him out on it.

“Seriously, Riddle?” she snapped in annoyance. “You could have asked me before you decided everything.”

“If it really inconveniences you, I can always re-schedule the meeting,” Riddle proposed, his tone saccharine sweet. “I just need to inform the Prefects. Although, they’ve probably prepared for the meeting already…”

Hermione’s mouth thinned into an angry line. Then she hissed, fighting for composure, “No. That’s not necessary.”

She could spot a self-satisfied glint in Riddle’s grey eyes. It made her blood boil with anger. He managed to hide all smugness behind an attractive smile, though.

“I knew I could count on you.”

Hermione didn’t answer to that. She simply stated coldly, “If that was all.”

“Of course,” Riddle nodded.

Then he excused himself and strutted out of the library. Hermione returned to her Potions essay and furiously scribbled away. She didn’t want to waste anymore of her precious study time on some nasty Slytherin like  _Riddle_.

 

**– o –**

 

Rebecca Bradley sat in the DADA classroom with her textbook, parchment and quill neatly sorted on her table. It wouldn’t do for a Ravenclaw to arrive unprepared to any class. Rebecca prided her House’s traits and was an efficient student herself, always eager to learn. She adjusted her black-rimmed glasses and looked at her friend, Megan Wildsmith.

“How long is your essay?” Rebecca asked.

The Ravenclaw sitting right beside her, sported short red hair which was well-suited to her heart-shaped face. The red-head looked up from her scroll and smiled.

“A foot and a half,” Megan replied proudly.

Rebecca grinned. “Mine too. Although, Merrythought only asked for one, didn’t she?”

Megan nodded contently. Her eyes wandered over the classroom as if to check the other students’ essays. Her gaze got stuck on something and a small frown furrowed Megan’s brow.

“I bet  _she_ ’s written five feet again,” the red-head said, her voice laced with a hint of dislike.

Rebecca looked up from her own essay and followed Megan’s gaze. She ended up staring at none other than Head Girl and fellow Ravenclaw, Hermione Granger. As always the girl sat in the front row of the classroom. Although there were a few other Ravenclaws in that row, Granger sat alone at a table. As usual. The girl didn’t seem to mind her solitude, though. Bent over her textbook, she read avidly. Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“Ignore her,” she advised her friend. “Granger’s crazy. Like Slughorn  _wanted_  to read that five feet essay, when he explicitly asked for two.”

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly against the roof of her mouth. Megan nodded and unfixed her gaze from the bushy-haired girl.

“You know,” she remarked lightly, “I’m kinda glad she’s been made Head Girl this year.”

Rebecca raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

Megan’s nose crinkled. “Yes. At least now she’s out of our dorm. You remember OWL year?”

Rebecca nodded, annoyance burning up in her eyes by the mere memory.

“Drove us all up the walls, Granger did.”

Megan sniffed resentfully. “Yeah. And after she had infected everyone with her panic, she excelled every class. Only ‘O’s, as far as I know.”

A vindictive streak awoke in Rebecca as she corrected, “No. She got an ‘E’ in DADA.”

Megan sniggered and added snidely, “Must have surely killed her.”

The girls’ conversation was interrupted as the classroom door opened and the Slytherins filed in. As usual, they arrived a good five minutes after all the Ravenclaws. Rebecca could feel her cheeks heating up as she watched Tom Riddle enter the classroom. Black hair, pale skin and with a body that was simply divine, Riddle was unbelievably handsome. His eyes glowed with their intense grey colour and it would probably send Rebecca into a giggling fit should he ever look at her.

“What a waste,” Megan sighed mournfully.

“Uh?” Rebecca mumbled inarticulately.

She interrupted her study of Riddle and peered at her friend. Megan had the same glassy look in her eyes that Rebecca probably sported herself.

“A waste. That Granger gets to live with Riddle in the Heads’ dorms.”

Rebecca shortly glanced at the girl in question. Her bushy hair was atrocious, like Granger had never bothered to use a brush. The Head Girl wasn’t exactly ugly, but nothing to look at either. A plain Jane, boring. Riddle could do loads better.

“At least someone like her won’t manage to snatch Riddle away, now, will she?” Rebecca scoffed.

Megan snorted. “Merlin, no. Riddle can have any girl in the school. Why would he settle for such a wallflower?”

Rebecca looked back at Riddle, who had settled down at a table on the Slytherin side of the classroom. A dreamy smile danced around her lips as she observed how he conversed with his friends.

“And he doesn’t need her for school work either,” Rebecca commented. “After all, he’s the top student of our year.”

Megan giggled and said, “Don’t let Granger hear you say that. She might hex you.”

 

**– o –**

 

Hermione’s eyes had narrowed the moment Riddle stepped into the DADA classroom. She really shouldn’t care, but she couldn’t help it. It was simply impossible for her to ignore Riddle, her personal nemesis. Since first year, she’d been battling with him over the spot of top student. When it came to school and grades, Riddle was the only competition Hermione had.

…and she  _resented_  him for it.

The worst thing was that Riddle didn’t seem to  _care_. While Hermione bent over backwards and spent her whole free time in the library to keep her grades up, Riddle was incredibly lazy. He almost never showed up in the library and he never learned for any tests either. It was so  _frustrating_. While he sat around in the Slytherin common room, having fun with his stupid friends, Hermione couldn’t even breathe with all the work she had to do.

Out of the corners of her eyes, Hermione glanced in Riddle’s direction, her fingers angrily tapping against the table. As always he was surrounded by his Slytherin friends. Oh, how they all  _adored_  Riddle. Hermione gritted her teeth. Her irritation rose another few notches as she watched him converse with Abraxas Malfoy, while pulling a crumpled piece of parchment from his satchel. Was that supposed to be his essay?! That wasn’t even half a foot! Yet, Hermione knew Merrythought would give Riddle nothing but the highest mark.

Hermione was very close to setting Riddle’s essay on fire as the professor entered the classroom. Merrythought was a rather short woman. Still her presence instantly commanded respect. Her long grey hair was tied into a bun and small reading glasses sat on her nose. Merrythought was a very strict teacher and Hermione simply loved the woman.

“Settle down, settle down,” the professor ordered, before jumping right into the lesson. “Last time, we discussed Manticores. Now, who can tell me what charms are able to subdue a Manticore?”

Over the rim of her reading glasses, Merrythought stared at the class. Her gaze wandered over to the Slytherin side.

“What about you, Mr Rosier?”

Hermione glanced at the Slytherin. Marius Rosier was a rather popular guy among his housemates, though for the life of her, Hermione couldn’t understand why. He was as obnoxious as Slytherins came. With his gelled-back hair and that ridiculous moustache, he looked more like a mob boss than an actual student. It didn’t help the intimidation factor either, that he was very tall and rather brawny. The latter was probably correlated with his position as beater on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Judging by the deep frown currently adorning his features, Rosier probably wished he could use his beater’s bat to tackle Merrythought’s question.

“Er…” he finally mumbled, “The… the Confundus Charm?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the pathetic reply. Seriously? How had Rosier managed to get into NEWTs DADA classes?

“Wrong answer,” decided Merrythought, throwing Rosier a reproachful look. “Anyone else?”

Hermione’s hand shot up in the air. She even waved it eagerly to get the professor’s attention. Unfortunately, Merrythought said, “Yes? Mr Riddle?”

Hermione angrily gritted her teeth and glowered at the black-haired Slytherin. With an easy smile on his face, Riddle replied, “There is no known Charm that would be able to overcome a Manticore.”

“Yes. Yes, quite right,” the professor praised. “Take five points for Slytherin.”

Merrythought threw Riddle one of her very rare smiles before she continued, “Now, let us move on to the beast we are going to study this class. What can you tell me about the Lethifold?”

Once again, Hermione raised her hand. Of course, Riddle did as well. This time, though, Merrythought chose her. Triumphantly, Hermione grinned in Riddle’s direction before she stated, “The Lethifold or Living Shroud is a highly dangerous carnivore. In appearance it resembles a black cloak which glides along the ground. It’s nocturnal and preys on humans, attacking them in their sleep. Lethifolds are very rare and are endemic to the tropics.”

“Very good, Ms Granger.” Merrythought nodded in approval. “Five points to Ravenclaw.”

Hermione grinned widely, always proud when she managed to gain House points. Her triumph was cut short as a well-known, smooth voice spoke up.

“Professor?” said Riddle, smiling at Merrythought. “I think that definition was incomplete.”

Furiously, Hermione’s hand travelled to her wand. If only she could pull it out.

“Of course, Ms Granger was right with everything she said,” Riddle explained placidly. “But she omitted an important detail.”

His grey gaze shortly flicked towards Hermione. The polite smile was still on his face, but she could see a mocking smirk underneath. Then he looked back at Merrythought and continued,

“Most important when dealing with a Lethifold is to know that it is susceptible to the Patronus Charm.”

“Of course, it is.” Merrythought clapped her hands together while beaming at Riddle. “Thank you, Mr Riddle. Another ten points to Slytherin.”

Then she turned to the whole class and said, “Now, please, open your textbooks to page 263.”

Anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, Hermione reached for her textbook. As she flicked through the pages, her gaze involuntarily wandered over to Riddle. He was looking back at her. Another wave of hot fury hit her as he really had the audacity to wink at her. Hermione’s eyes snapped back to her book and she irately turned the pages, almost ripping them.

_Slimy, arrogant Slytherin._

 

**– o –**

 

Two days later, it was a Thursday, Hermione had to suffer through double History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs. Of course she took elaborate notes of Professor Binn’s lecture, but she really was no fan of his teaching qualities. So, with a sigh of relief, Hermione welcomed the conclusion of the ghost’s class. Bag slung over her shoulder, she headed for the Great Hall. The other Ravenclaws walked in small groups, friends chatting amongst themselves. Hermione walked alone and after seven years of school, it almost didn’t faze her anymore. She just couldn’t connect with her peers.

And Merlin, she had tried.

Entering the Great Hall, Hermione spotted Riddle sitting at the Slytherin table. As always, he was surrounded by a whole bunch of people, all of them seemingly fighting for his attention. Girls fluttered their eyelashes flirtatiously at Riddle and boys wanted to talk to him and sit by him to soak up some of his popularity. Hermione shook her head, sat down at the Ravenclaw table and ate her meal in silence.

It was three hours and a study session in the library later that Hermione tiredly walked to the Heads’ common room. The day had been long and she just wanted to crawl into her bed. As Hermione entered her common room, she was greeted by loud chatter and her mood immediately dropped to a new low. Riddle and a bunch of Slytherins lounged on the sofas and armchairs, laughing and drinking bottles of Butterbeer and – a disapproving frown appeared on Hermione’s face – Firewhiskey. Hermione had no problem recognizing the Slytherins. They were quite  _notorious_  within Hogwarts. Malfoy, Rosier, Avery, Lestrange and Mulciber. Nott, she realized in distaste, was already drunkenly lying in a dark corner, snoring loudly. Hermione angrily shook her head. Tom Riddle and his stupid little gang. Even she had heard rumours about them. What were they called again…?

_Walpurgis Night, or something equally stupid_ , Hermione sneered in her head while she threw angry glares at Riddle.

“Riddle,” she snubbed. “This is not a basement party room. This is where I  _live_. So, kindly remove your drunk friends.”

Riddle calmly gazed at her and Hermione could tell that, contrary to his friends, he was sober. Languidly, he took a sip from his glass and Hermione could feel her temper flare up violently.

“I live here as well,” Riddle stated icily, voice perfectly controlled, “and I felt like inviting a few friends.”

His indifferent manner drove Hermione to the boiling point. She opened her mouth to snap at him, but Rosier butted in. “Now, listen here,” he growled drunkenly. “Shut your trap and leave us the hell alone.”

The Slytherins, sans Riddle who observed impassively, grunted their approval. Anger rushing through her, Hermione glared at Rosier witheringly.

“You’re not even a Prefect,” she hissed mordantly. “You, of all people, have no right to be here.”

At her words, Rosier sprang up from the couch. He was quite tall, at least a head taller than Hermione, and there was a mad glint in his eyes as he glowered at her. Hermione couldn’t help but take a step back. The menacing look didn’t drop from Rosier’s face. In fact, he continued to snarl at her aggressively,

“You’re just a filthy  _Mudblood_. Watch how you talk to your betters!”

Hermione gaped at him. He hadn’t just  _really_  called her a ‘Mudblood’, had he? Indignation welling up, Hermione yelled, “Now listen here, you-“

Her rant was interrupted as Rosier pulled out his wand. Evil smirks in place, the other Slytherins followed suit. Hermione shrunk away, stomach clenching with anxiety. How had the situation changed so drastically?

“Stop,” a smooth voice ordered sharply.

Fortunately, the Slytherins obeyed and lowered their wands. Hermione’s eyes flew to Riddle, her heart fearfully hammering in her chest. Riddle still sat on the couch, legs folded elegantly, as he scanned her calmly. Despite the events, there was still an expression of complete indifference on Riddle’s handsome face.

“Granger,” he said, his tone composed with an authoritative undercurrent. “Why don’t you go to your room and I put a Silencing Spell on your door?”

Riddle’s expression, his gaze, emitted nothing but condescension and Hermione certainly didn’t like that hidden order in his statement, but she was outnumbered at the moment. The other Slytherins still glared at her menacingly and Hermione felt a bit intimidated. So, instead of starting another argument, she simply nodded at Riddle before she quickly fled to her room, heart still pounding.

 

**– o –**

 

After the event in the common room, Hermione’s dislike for Riddle and his friends only increased. She ignored him as best as she could. With NEWTs drawing closer, she had more important things to do anyway. She spent almost all her free time in the library, learning and researching. To her dismay, the library closed at nine – _A scandal!_  –and she had to relocate her studies to her room.

Hermione closed the heavy Herbology tome with a snap and rubbed her tired eyes.  _Past 12 already_ , she realized after consulting the large grandfather clock that stood in one corner of her dorm room.

_Friday night and you are sitting alone in your room, studying_ , she told herself wryly.  _Living life on the edge, aren’t you, Granger?_

Hermione shrugged, yawned and decided to call it a day. Sluggishly she got up from her chair and stretched her arms. As she shuffled over to her bed, Hermione once again appreciated the solitude of her Head Girl dorm. It was wonderful being able to study late into the night, without her dorm mates complaining about the light. A happy but tired smile on her face, Hermione reached for her pyjamas.

It was then that a loud crash was heard, coming from downstairs. Hermione gave a start and the pyjamas fell from her hand. Turning her head, she stared at the door. That had come from the common room. It couldn’t be Riddle. He never returned this early to the Heads’ dorms at a Friday night. Cautiously, Hermione opened the door and peered down at the common room. Everything was shrouded in darkness. Hermione breathed in to calm herself down, then she pulled out her wand. Her fingers nervously curled around her wand as she noiselessly slipped down the stairs. Arriving in the common room, Hermione whispered, voice small and shaky,

“Lumos.”

Instantly a ball of light detached itself from the tip of her wand and slowly flew up to the ceiling, lighting up the whole room. Hermione’s eyes widened in shock. There, in the middle of the room, lay a person, quite motionlessly.

“Merlin.”

Panic mounted in her as Hermione stared at that lifeless person. What had happened?! The person gave a small shudder, indicating that death hadn’t visited Hermione’s home after all. Startled out of her stupor, she quickly rushed over to the person on the floor.

“Hey…” she whispered shakily.

Hermione raised a trembling hand and laid it on a black-cloaked shoulder. Cautiously she rolled the person around, so she could see their face. Hermione gasped softly as she spied pale skin, handsome high cheekbones and jet-black hair.

“Riddle,” she breathed. “What… what happened?”

Riddle’s eyes were closed and he made no indication that he could even hear her. Hermione chewed on her lower lip as her gaze flickered over Riddle’s form. Shakily, she raised her wand and waved it in a complicated pattern. A warm light descended from the wand’s tip and gently wrapped around Riddle. The diagnostic spell did its work and Hermione instantly got a response. A relieved breath of air left her. Riddle was weak, exhausted, but other than that he seemed to be fine. At least, Hermione couldn’t sense anything life-threatening. She cancelled her spell and glanced at Riddle’s unconscious form. Should she bring him to the Hospital Wing? Then again, he was fine.

_Probably just drunk_ , she scoffed silently.

Making a decision, Hermione got up from her kneeling position. She quickly slashed her wand through the air, sending a levitation spell at Riddle. Cautiously, she directed his body over to the couch. He stirred softly as Hermione laid him down but he didn’t wake up. She grabbed a blanket and gently wrapped it around him. For a moment, Hermione hesitated and looked down at Riddle’s sleeping face.

He really  _was_  quite attractive, wasn’t he?

She shook her head, trying to get rid of that unwanted thought. Then she turned around, intending to get back to her dorm. Promptly, she stepped on something pointy with her bare foot. Hermione looked down and spotted a ring lying innocently on the floor. It glinted dully in the light of her Lumos. Hermione furrowed her brow and stooped down. Made of gold, the heavy ring was adorned with a black stone. What really got Hermione’s attention, though, was the magic the ring emanated. In thick waves it gushed from the ring, like blood from a wound. That magic was angry and dark. Violent. It bristled furiously, as if offended by Hermione’s nearness. Something about this ring was deeply wrong. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Hermione threw a hasty glance at Riddle’s sleeping form. It must be his ring. It certainly hadn’t been in the room before. Hermione would have noticed such magic. She peered back down at the offending ring. It still oozed that horrible dark magic. Hermione shuddered. It didn’t sit right with her to leave the ring with Riddle. Nausea bubbled up in her as she reluctantly reached for the ring. As Hermione’s fingers touched the cool metal, the dark magic hissed in anger. She could suddenly hear a voice in her head. It was distant and shrouded. Like a badly tuned radio, it whispered in her head, distorted. Although, the meaning behind that voice’s monologue remained a mystery, it still evoked an ice cold shiver to run down Hermione’s spine. Quickly, she murmured a protective spell to keep the ring’s magic at bay. Still, the ring burned irately in her hand as she carried it up the stairs to her bedroom.

 

**– o –**

 


	2. I'm a Liar

 The next day, Hermione quietly slipped out of the Heads’ dorms. She was very relieved that Riddle was nowhere to be seen. The golden ring weighed heavily in Hermione’s robe pocket as she left the dorms. She didn’t quite know what to do with the dark object, yet. So for now, Hermione simply decided to hide it away. Luckily, she knew just the place for that.

Hastily, Hermione walked through hallways and corridors towards the seventh floor. A relieved breath of air left her as she reached a familiar stretch of bare wall. It was the enchanted entrance to Hermione’s private sanctuary, the Room of Requirement. Quickly, Hermione opened the room, desperately wishing for a place to hide the golden ring. The Room of Requirement turned into a large hall, stuffed with piles and piles of things. It was pure chaos of old and dusty crystal balls, broken brooms, a pile of mismatched shoes, a stack of destroyed and rusty cauldrons. Obviously, whole generations of students had been here before Hermione, hiding away broken or stolen things. Hermione stepped further into the room. Not far away, she spotted an old chest of drawers. Some time ago, it had been painted in a dark green. By now, the old varnish flaked off at various places. Hermione opened one of the drawers, before she pulled the golden ring from her pocket and put it into the drawer. She felt strangely relieved, as if having lost a great burden, as she left the Room of Requirement.

Unfortunately, Hermione’s elevated mood didn’t hold for long. The whole day – in the Great Hall, during classes, in hallways, whenever their paths crossed – Riddle was staring at her. Hermione tried to ignore his penetrating gaze, but it made her feel uncomfortable. She hadn’t spoken a word with him since last night and desperately wanted to keep it this way.

Riddle’s stares and borderline threatening presence made Hermione contemplate her options. So, as she left the library at nine o’clock the same day, she wondered whether she should consult a teacher. The ring was clearly dark and Riddle’s intentions seemed, at least, to be ominous. Hermione felt a familiar painful pang in her chest as she had to acknowledge her lack of a person, a  _friend_ , she could confide in. Deep in dark thoughts, Hermione trekked back to her common room. Hogwarts’ hallways were deserted as curfew was approaching and were rather spooky at this late hour.

Hermione had just taken a few steps down another hallway, when suddenly a strong arm wrapped around her waist and a hand was pressed over her mouth. She gasped in fright but the hand muffled any sound she made. The arm around her tightened painfully and she was wrenched away. Hermione wriggled around, trying to break free, but her captor was stronger. Cold panic consumed her and her heart hammered away in her chest as she was dragged from the hallway and into another one. A door was ripped open and Hermione was brutally shoved into a dark room. She lost her balance and painfully fell to the floor, scraping her knees.

Her breath left her in short gasps, while adrenalin and fear rushed through her. Without thinking, Hermione dug her hand into her robe pocket and pulled out her wand. She didn’t try to get up from her kneeling position, didn’t try to reason with her captor either, instead she flashed her wand through the air and cried,

“Stupefy!”

The angry red light dashed through the air towards the position where she assumed her captor to be. Unfortunately her Stunner didn’t hit its aim. A blue shield rose up in the air, illuminating the dark classroom. Hermione’s eyes widened slightly as she could finally identify her captor in the dull light. She couldn’t say she was surprised.

“Riddle,” Hermione whispered hoarsely as she stared at the black-haired Slytherin.

Riddle didn’t reply. He elegantly brandished his wand, cancelling his shield and simultaneously kindling a nearby torch, lighting the room.

“What-“ Hermione gasped, still feeling shaky, “-is the meaning of this?”

Riddle’s unfathomable grey eyes travelled over her kneeling form. Hermione could feel the dark magic hovering around him. It saturated the whole room and tugged balefully at her body. She couldn’t help but flinch away from him. A twisted smirk curved Riddle’s lips as he saw it. Hermione jutted out her chin in defiance and grabbed her wand tighter.

“Don’t…” she warned sharply. “Don’t try anything, Riddle.”

Slowly she got up from the floor to stand on shaky legs. She never lowered her wand put kept it aimed straight at Riddle’s heart. Every muscle in her body was tense and her eyes shortly flew from Riddle to the exit door behind him.

“Whatever you’re up to, I want no part in it,” Hermione told him decidedly. “I’m going to leave now.”

As a reaction Riddle stepped in front of the door and raised his wand threateningly. The evil smirk still hung mockingly from his lips.

“I don’t think so,” he hissed, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

Hermione had to stop herself from shying away from Riddle’s dark aura. The smirk abruptly dropped from his face, leaving behind a frightening glower.

“Give me my ring,” Riddle commanded menacingly.

Hermione gulped. So, that was what he wanted. It didn’t come as a surprise, but she had pictured the confrontation in a less dangerous light.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and snapped, “No.”

By his reaction Hermione could tell that Riddle didn’t hear that word very often. His Dark Magic in the air turned and furiously pressed down on her. Hermione could barely breathe as the power ripped at her hungrily. With eyes widened in fear, she stared at Riddle. His grey eyes seemed to glow in the twilight of the room and a distorted smirk curled his lips.

Without any warning, he slashed his wand through the air. Hermione didn’t have time to defend herself as an unforgiving force crashed into her, hurling her to the floor. A painful moan left her mouth and her hand shot to her chest.

“I want you to give me my ring,” Riddle said, his voice eerily soft and calm.

Hermione raised her head, erratic curls of hair falling in her face. A vicious smirk ghosted around Riddle’s lips as he eyed her. His dark magic stormed around him in a vortex of destruction.

“Give up,” the wizard hissed, his voice a dark whisper.

Riddle’s malicious magic still burned in Hermione’s chest. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears as she felt his curse slowly squeezing around her heart, already making it stutter. There was no mercy on Riddle’s face. Pain engulfed Hermione and she grasped her chest. Shakily she wrenched up her wand. The tip pointed at her own chest, as Hermione hissed,

“Pena!”

Her magic, warm and soothing, flooded her chest. Quickly it pulled at Riddle’s curse which still squeezed threateningly around Hermione’s heart. Without hesitation, Hermione moved her wand away from her chest and aimed it at Riddle. Her magic followed the movement. Still tightly wrapped around Riddle’s dark curse, her magic detached from Hermione’s body. Taking Riddle’s magic along, it hurtled towards the wizard.

Riddle raised a surprised eyebrow as he was suddenly confronted with his own curse, backed up by Hermione’s magic. An angry snarl appeared on his face and Riddle whirled his wand. The air crackled with his magic and a powerful burst of it slammed into Hermione’s attack, sending it off trajectory. Riddle again brandished his pale wand and sent an angry curse at Hermione. She barely had time to erect a shield before the curse was upon her. It violently collided with her shield and Hermione was hurled away. A yell of pain left her lips as she brutally crashed into a table. Wood burst and splinters cut her skin, boring themselves into her flesh. Dazedly, Hermione lay on the floor, groaning in pain.

“Stupid witch,” she could hear Riddle’s silky voice spit at her.

His voice was followed by another curse. Hermione saw the yellow light rushing towards her. Frantically, she rolled over. Riddle’s curse crashed into the floor, just where Hermione had been lying seconds before, and left behind cracks in the flagstone. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the destroyed stone. If that curse had hit, Hermione would have been severely injured if not worse. Her gaze flew to her attacker. Riddle again whirled his wand. Fear ruled her actions as Hermione reacted, otherwise she would have never used such a dark spell.

“Cremitare!” she yelled.

Fire burst from her wand. It sizzled angrily as it wrapped around Riddle, eager to incinerate him. Riddle had to raise a shield to protect himself. Hermione stared incredulously as her flames were simply sucked into Riddle’s shield until there was nothing left. Riddle sent her an evil smirk before he once again brandished his wand. Instantly, his shield exploded in a green light. The blast of it hurled Hermione, like a ragdoll, against the wall. A yell of pain left her as she crashed into the stone. Weakly, she sagged to the floor and coughed, desperately trying to get air into her lungs.

Hermione still fought for air as she heard soft steps echoing through the room. With difficulty she raised her head. A cruel gleam danced in Riddle’s grey eyes as he walked towards her.

“You leave me no choice,  _Hermione_ ,” he whispered, the threat evident in his deep voice. “It seems, I have to force that ring from you.”

Hermione trembled helplessly as her eyes jumped from the merciless expression on Riddle’s face to the pale wand in his hand. He was incredibly strong…  _too strong for me_.

“Where is the ring?” Riddle inquired, his voice light but Hermione could hear the danger underneath.

Hermione didn’t reply, but fearfully shied away from him, pressing her back against the wall. As she made direct contact with the wall, Hermione could sense a Silencing Spell layering the stone. Riddle must have cast it. The spell encompassed the whole classroom, making it absolutely soundproof. No wonder no-one had come to save her.

“You will hand over that ring,” Riddle hissed threateningly.

To emphasise his demand, he sent a cutting curse at her. Hermione whimpered as she felt his magic slicing into her arm, blood following. She had no idea why she didn’t give in to him. Maybe stubbornness held her back  _…or insanity_. She grabbed her wand tighter, steeling herself.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Hermione said, struggling to keep the fear from her voice.

Riddle snickered darkly. “Have it your way then, little Ravenclaw.”

Before he could attack her, Hermione sprang into action. Hastily, she slammed a bout of her magic into the wall behind her. Riddle’s Silencing Spell bristled angrily at the intrusion. Shortly the room’s walls flickered in a greenish light, but then the spell broke down. Hermione triumphantly grinned up at Riddle. Her wand was raised and magic gathered at its tip, ready to be released.

“Stop,” Hermione ordered, only slightly breathless. “Attack me and I will release this little spell here.”

She gestured with her wand. Riddle stopped in his movements but did not lower his wand. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“You are weak. Do you really think you can stop  _me_?”He tilted his head to a side as he stared at her wand. “With a  _Reductor_?!”

Hermione wasn’t to be discouraged by his scorn and her grin widened.

“Maybe not,” she admitted lightly. “But I might just release this little Reductor. I think it’s powerful enough to put a nice hole in that wall over there.” The grin on Hermione’s face sharpened as she added, “With your Silencing Spell gone, half of Hogwarts’ population would hear such an explosion. They’ll come running. I’m sure Dumbledore would be interested to hear what exactly has been going on in this room.”

Dark Magic wrenched at Hermione, but she was incredibly satisfied to see fury twisting Riddle’s face. He stared at her for a second, obviously wishing he could kill her with his glare. Then slowly, so very slowly, he lowered his wand.

Hermione didn’t wait to see if he came up with another, quieter, murder plan to bring her down. She pulled herself up from the floor, her back aching nastily. The glow of the Reductor still lit her wand as Hermione slowly inched closer to the door. She never once took her eyes off Riddle. Cautiously, she groped for the door handle. The Slytherin still hadn’t moved but observed her, strange expression on his face. Hermione finally opened the door. Before she could slip out, Riddle’s voice held her back,

“Wait.”

It wasn’t the authoritative command it had been just moments before. Hermione hesitated. There was a hint of panic in his deep voice.

“Please,” Riddle pleaded softly. “Please, wait.”

The unfamiliar tinge of defeat held her back. Hermione had never heard Riddle speaking like this. It didn’t drive away her wariness or her anger, but it did make her curious. Riddle looked at Hermione, his face paler than usual and the menacing glint having left his eyes.

“I… I…” Riddle stuttered. “Please, don’t tell Dumbledore anything.”

Hermione’s nose crinkled in disgust and she snapped fiercely, “Don’t expect any leniency from me. You  _attacked_  me just because of some stupid ring.”

“I’m sorry,” Riddle quickly asserted. “I’m sorry, I attacked you.”

Hermione snorted disbelievingly. “Yeah. Right.”

Then she again reached for the door handle. Riddle took a step towards her. The movement made her train her wand, still lit with her Reductor, at him.

“I told you to leave me alone,” Hermione warned threateningly. “I’ll give that blasted ring to Dumbledore. He can deal with you.”

“No… you misunderstand,” Riddle whispered, urgency in his tone. “That ring… it’s- it’s not mine.”

Hermione shook her head at this blatant lie. “Do you think I’m stupid? Really? Couldn’t think of anything better?”

Riddle’s grey eyes fluttered at her. Hermione was surprised to see insecurity swimming in them.

“I’m not lying,” he replied cautiously. “Please, let me explain.”

Hermione had no wish to spend any more time with Riddle. If she gave Dumbledore the ring and told him everything, he would surely get Riddle expelled.  _He would deserve it,_  Hermione decided hotly. Riddle peered at her, nervously fiddling with the wand in his hands, almost dropping it. Shouldn’t she at least hear him out? Hermione released an angry breath of air then, very reluctantly, she nodded at him. Relief crossed Riddle’s handsome face.

“Rosier,” he explained softly. “The ring belongs to Rosier.”

Hermione furrowed her brow in disbelief. “Marius Rosier?”

The Slytherin nodded his head. “I don’t know if you ever heard about them, but there’s a group within Slytherin house that has a lot of power and influence.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Of course I know.  _Everybody_ knows about them. Nasty bunch. What are they calling themselves? Walpurgis Night?”

Riddle peered at her with his unfathomable grey eyes and corrected quietly, “The Knights of Walpurgis.”

“Whatever,” Hermione said carelessly. “I also know that Lestrange, Malfoy, Nott, Mulciber and Rosier are a part of this group. And that  _you-_ ” she threw a dark glare at Riddle, “-are their leader.”

Riddle’s eyes widened slightly as he heard the last statement. A hint of embarrassment crossed his face before he hid it by bending down his head.

“I’m… I’m not their leader,” Riddle admitted hesitantly. “Rosier is.”

“Pfft, that’s ridiculous,” Hermione sneered. “I’ve seen how they treat you, Riddle. Like some sort of royalty. I sure as hell never saw them behaving like that towards Rosier.”

Riddle quickly shook his head. Desperation laced his tone as he explained, “That’s all for show. They want me to act as their leader in public.”

“Why?” Hermione shook her head in disbelief. “Why would they want a fake leader?”

“You said it yourself, Hermione,” the Slytherin explained. “ _Everybody_  knows that I’m the Knights’ leader. Consecutively, if anything goes wrong, who would take the blame? Me.”

Hermione considered Riddle for a moment. He looked at her pleadingly, desperation on his face. He  _was_  the leader of the Knights. Why did he pull such a lie now?

“Even if it’s true and you’re not their leader,” Hermione stated gruffly, “You’re still part of that group. The Knights are a bunch of dark wizards. I’ve heard of a few incidents involving them. People got hurt and cursed. The professors could never prove it, but everybody knows that the Knights are to blame.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at Riddle. “Why should I trust you? Why would you be a part of the Knights if you’re as innocent as you claim to be?”

Riddle averted her eyes and slightly bowed his head as her accusations washed over him. He didn’t answer her right away.

“I- I need them,” Riddle finally admitted quietly.

“Oh please,” Hermione snorted disbelievingly. “Why would  _you_  need them? Tom Riddle doesn’t need anyone. The way you strut around the castle, I always thought the whole thing belongs to you.”

Riddle’s grey eyes shortly glanced up at her but he quickly lowered his head again as he spotted the disdain on Hermione’s face.

“I can’t see the popular  _Tom Riddle_ following anyone around,” Hermione scorned. “The teachers adore you, the girls love you and everyone else wants to be just like you. The famous Pureblood Riddle. King of Slytherin. Don’t tell me that they are not catering to your every wish.”

“I’m not,” Riddle whispered, almost inaudible.

“What?” Hermione inquired harshly.

Finally, he raised his face and looked her in the eyes. Determination glinted in his eyes and his voice was firm as he stated,

“I’m not a Pureblood.”

Hermione was taken aback. Silence fell after Riddle’s statement and she could only stare at him.

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked weakly. “You’re in Slytherin, of course you’re a Pureblood. I  _know_  you are a Pureblood.”

“I’m a Halfblood, okay?” Riddle snapped. “Are you satisfied now?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everybody in Slytherin knows,” Riddle hissed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “ _Everybody_. Even the first years think they are better than me.”

“Riddle, what are you talking about?” Hermione questioned in bewilderment. “Pureblood or not, you’re Head Boy. I know that the Slytherins respect you. I’ve seen it for myself.”

Riddle sneered. “They don’t respect  _me_. They respect the Knights. Even though I’m the lowest among them, I’m still a member of the Knights. The other Slytherins are bound to respect me. If they don’t, they would go directly against Rosier himself. Don’t you see? That’s the only reason I joined the Knights.”

Hermione shook her head. “No. That doesn’t make any sense. With all their Pureblood supremacy nonsense, why would the Knights accept a Halfblood?”

“Rosier accepted me as a follower, because I’m useful,” Riddle sighed. “I’m smart, the teachers love me and I’m quite popular with the other houses. Of course, Rosier would want to use me.”

“I know you, Riddle,” Hermione said suspiciously. “And I can’t see you following Rosier around like a lap dog.”

“Have you any idea how you get treated in Slytherin when you’re a Halfblood?” said Riddle mordantly. “Let me tell you, not very well.”

He tiredly leaned against the table behind him. Riddle ran a hand through his silky hair and looked quite uncomfortable with the situation.

“You know,” he finally spoke again, “I grew up in an orphanage. A  _Muggle_  orphanage.”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I didn’t know anything about magic or Hogwarts until Dumbledore visited me when I turned eleven,” Riddle continued reluctantly. “It was quite the shock when I finally arrived at Hogwarts and it turned out that the whole thing wasn’t just one elaborate joke.”

“So, I got sorted into Slytherin.” Riddle peered at Hermione. “And as I didn’t know a thing about the wizarding world, I didn’t know it would be a bad idea to tell the other Slytherins that I grew up with Muggles.”

“They didn’t like that, did they?” Hermione asked cautiously.

“Not a bit,” Riddle laughing mirthlessly. “From the start I got treated like shit.”

“I never noticed anything,” she mused.

“Slytherins don’t air their dirty laundry in public,” Riddle said dryly. “They kept it to the common room.”

Hermione peered at him. “So you joined the Knights because…”

Riddle threw her a faint smile. “Because they offered me some sort of protection. Finally, the other Slytherins would leave me alone.”

Hermione scanned him pensively. “Still no reason for you to attack me.”

“The ring…” Riddle whispered softly, “Rosier gave it to me. For safe-keeping. He didn’t want to have it in the dorm rooms, so he ordered me to store it in the Heads’ dorm.”

He nervously fiddled with the hem of his black uniform robe and avoided Hermione’s eyes as he continued, “I have no idea what curse was put on the ring but I know it’s dark.” He glanced at her. “I wanted to stow it away in my room and never think of it again. If Rosier knew I lost it…”

Hermione looked at Riddle and had no idea what to make of him. He seemed to be honest. If that story about him being a Halfblood was really true, then it seemed plausible he would seek protection from the other Slytherins. They were all horribly prejudiced as Hermione knew from experience.

She ran a hand distractedly through her curly hair as she scanned Riddle. Was he lying? She wasn’t completely convinced of his innocence but if he said the truth, she couldn’t very well hand him over to Dumbledore. Hermione sighed. This was difficult. After a long moment of consideration, she finally said,

“Okay… I won’t go to Dumbledore.”

Instantly, Riddle’s face lit up. “Thank you.”

“But-” Hermione raised a hand, “-I’m also not going to give the ring back to you.”

The smile dropped from Riddle’s face. “I… but I need that ring.”

Hermione arched her eyebrows in suspicion and he quickly continued, “If Rosier finds out, I don’t know what he’s going to do to me.”

“I’m sorry,” replied Hermione firmly. “But that ring is really dark. It mustn’t fall into the wrong hands. And if you’re right, then Rosier simply can’t have it back.”

Riddle stared at her and again opened his mouth, obviously to argue. Hermione cut over him, “I need time to think this through. I don’t want to be responsible for any harm the ring causes.”

Riddle obviously wasn’t content at all with her decision. Hermione didn’t care. She simply turned and left the classroom.

 

**– o –**

 

He was strange, Riddle was. Here, Hermione thought she had pegged him as the conceited leader of a gang of bullies, and suddenly he turned everything around. She exhaled tiredly and leaned back against the tree trunk. Her head rested against the bark and she looked up at the blue sky. The beautiful day contrasted sharply with her memories of that surreal duel she had had with Riddle the night before.

Sitting here, nice and secluded, on the soft grass of Hogwarts’ grounds, Hermione could almost forget her troubles. Sadly, they kept spinning through her head. What should she do with Riddle? Or with the ring? Hermione sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

She was ripped from her circulating thoughts as she felt something coil around her wrist. She opened her eyes and looked down at her hand. A smile tugged at her lips as she spotted a thin tree branch coiling its way around her wrist like a little snake. Hermione turned her head and looked up at the tree above her. She raised her eyebrows and inquired,

“No longer asleep, are you?”

As if to reply, another branch of the tree gingerly twisted itself into her curly hair, stroking it fondly and making it even bushier. Hermione grinned up at the tree.

“You know, sometimes I envy you,” she told the tree. “You can just stand here and not bother about anybody’s problems.”

The whole crown of the tree gave a little shudder, losing some of its leaves, while the branch around Hermione’s wrist squeezed her gently. It was a strangely reassuring gesture, and Hermione wondered if the tree wanted to tell that indeed sometimes it  _did_  bother about others’ problems. Hermione absentmindedly petted one of the tree’s branches. The wood creaked softly. It almost sounded like purring.

“A strange pair we make.” Hermione laughed. “A swotty witch and an enchanted tree.”

Maybe the tree couldn’t see anything strange about that, because it continued to possessively stroke Hermione’s hair. She smiled up at the crazy tree and fondly patted a branch.

Every Sunday, Hermione came down here. Just to sit in the grass, by the old knobby tree. No books, no other students were allowed to disturb her here. In her first year, when she had first visited this place, the old Willow had tried to strangle her with its twisty branches. Hermione was stubborn, though, and over years of continued visits, the Willow had developed an odd liking to her. The tree didn’t try to attack her anymore. Instead, the old Willow seemed to await Hermione’s presence, enjoying it even. It also came in very handy that the Willow drove away any other students and Hermione could have a little bit of undisturbed free time.

Hermione again closed her eyes and leaned against the tree. She enjoyed the branch stroking through her hair and tried to relax. Her light slumber was disturbed by a rustling and voices near-by. Hermione furrowed her brow and looked to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the voices came from. Instantly her Head Girl responsibilities kicked in. No-one was allowed to wander into the forest. The Willow only reluctantly let go of her as Hermione followed the voices into the Forbidden Forest. Just a stone’s throw away from the old Willow, she spotted two figures, hidden in the dark shadows of the forest. One was brawny, standing upright, chest puffed up arrogantly with a wand in hand. The other one knelt on the forest floor, head bowed in a submissive gesture. Trying to be as quite as possible, Hermione slipped closer. Cautiously she hid herself behind some shrubs.

“I ask you one last time,” the bulky person hissed dangerously. “Where is my ring?”

Hermione recognized him now. Gelled hair and sneer on his face, Marius Rosier looked more like a gangster than ever. The kneeling person hastily answered Rosier’s demanding question,

“I’m sorry,” that person whispered softly. “I- I don’t know.”

Hermione was truly surprised to recognize Riddle. All pompousness had left him and he even had his eyes downcast as he knelt before Rosier. Riddle twisted his hands in his lap and Hermione was close enough to see how he nervously gnawed at his lower lip.

Rosier was bristling with anger. He stepped closer to Riddle and brutally grabbed his dark hair, wrenching his head back. Now Riddle was forced to look up at the other Slytherin. Hermione watched with growing anxiety how malice twisted Rosier’s features as his icy cold eyes glared down at Riddle.

“You will pay,” Rosier stated, a murderous threat lurking in his tone.

Riddle’s eyes widened and he breathed shakily, “ _Please_ , I’m really sorry. I’ll find the ring. I promise.”

Rosier didn’t reply. He raised a fist and punched Riddle violently in the face. Hermione put a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp as Riddle was thrown to the ground. She wanted to yell at him and tell him to defend himself or try to get away. Riddle did neither. He cautiously rubbed his jaw and once again got in a kneeling position.

“I’m sure I can find the ring,” Riddle spoke up again, his voice raspy and weak.

“Oh, you will,” Rosier said, a fearsome edge to his voice, “but before that, you will pay for your blunder.”

Riddle’s grey eyes shot up to the other. Hermione could see apprehension swimming in them. Before Riddle could do or say anything, Rosier raised his wand. Angrily he cut it through the air and hissed,

“Dissecare”

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock as she watched a sickly orange light detaching itself from Rosier’s wand. The curse crackled furiously as it rushed through the air before it forcefully crashed into Riddle’s chest. Hermione could see it leaving behind multiple cuts in his uniform shirt and in the flesh underneath. Riddle groaned in pain and doubled over. His hands grabbed his chest and Hermione could see dark blood flowing through Riddle’s fingers.

 _That’s it_ , she thought furiously.

Hermione stood up, abandoning her cover. The Slytherins hadn’t yet noticed her presence. Rosier again flicked his wand and sent another curse at Riddle. This time, Hermione didn’t just stand by and watch. Her magic stormed around her angrily and she brandished her own wand. Instantly a blue shield appeared around Riddle. Rosier’s curse impacted with the shield and bounced off it harmlessly, not able to cause any damage. Furiously, Rosier whirled around. His eyes darkened dangerously as he spotted Hermione. 

“Look at that. It’s the Mudblood,” he threw a cruel taunt at Hermione.

Rosier took his wand from Riddle and now aimed it at her. Hermione kept her own wand threateningly trained at Rosier. She gulped nervously as she saw the menacing expressions on the Slytherin’s face. Trying to hide all fear behind a mask of confidence, she ordered sharply,

“Leave him alone!”

Rosier merely sneered at her, “Do you really think I’ll listen to a filthy Mudblood.”

Hermione’s fingers tightened around her wand at the insult.

“Get away from Tom,” Hermione snapped at the Slytherin. “I’ve seen you using that curse. It’s dark. If you don’t do as I say, I’m going straight to Dippet. I promise you, you’ll get expelled before you can even owl your father.”

Insecurity flashed through Rosier’s eyes. His gaze nervously flicked over to the castle as if already expecting Dippet to storm down to them.

“Just leave,” Hermione told him sternly. “Leave now and I won’t tell anyone.”

Rosier’s fingers twisted around his wand. He obviously wanted to curse her but Hermione stood her ground, glaring at the other. After a while, he hissed,

“You’ll regret this, Granger.”

Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust. “Just go.”

Rosier sneered at her, but then he indeed turned around. With sharp eyes, Hermione watched the Slytherin go. When she was sure Rosier had left, she released a relieved breath of air. Then Hermione rushed over Riddle. He was still kneeling on the forest floor, holding his bleeding chest. Hermione crouched beside him and gingerly clutched his shoulder.

“Riddle?” she whispered concernedly. “…Tom?”

He slowly looked up at Hermione. With worry she noticed the pain dulling his eyes and soothingly rubbed her hand over his back.

“Don’t worry,” she told him gently. “I’ll have you healed before you know it.”

“What are you doing here, Granger?” Tom inquired, voice laced with pain.

“You might not know it, but I always take a stroll down here on Sundays.” Hermione smiled at him softly. “Lucky for you, I guess.”

A small smirk curled Riddle’s mouth and he joked weakly, “I’m a lucky guy, eh?”

Hermione threw him a reassuring smile. Then she cautiously pried his hands away from his chest. She winced slightly as she saw the many cuts. They had sliced through Riddle’s shirt and skin, leaving bloody incisions. Hermione was glad to notice, though, that the cuts weren’t as deep as she had feared. The curse Rosier had used could have done a lot more damage. Tom really  _was_  lucky.

Hermione glanced at him and said, “It’s not too bad. I know a healing spell to cure this. It’s gonna hurt a bit, though.”

Again that attractive smirk danced around Riddle’s mouth. “Fire away.”

Hermione nodded. Then she clasped her wand, summoned her magic and whispered the incantation,

“Recura.”

A gentle blue light emitted from her wand and instantly latched onto Tom’s chest. He shuddered and gasped in pain as the healing spell took effect. Hermione watched with satisfaction how the cuts knitted back together. Soon, only smooth skin was left behind, here and there blemished by blood. Riddle arched a surprised eyebrow as his fingers brushed over his now healed chest.

“It’s… it’s all gone.”

“Yes,” replied Hermione. “After all, I’m Head Girl. I know  _some_  spells.”

She grinned at Riddle before she stowed her wand away in her pocket. Then she got up from the cold forest floor. Her fingers curled around Riddle’s arm as she cautiously helped him to stand up.

“You’ve lost some blood,” she told him. “You might feel a bit dizzy.”

In silence, Hermione led Riddle back to the castle and then towards the Heads’ chambers. Riddle leaned a bit on Hermione as he followed her. Finally, they reached the Heads’ common room and were greeted by its welcoming warmth. Before they separated to go to their respective dorms, Riddle bent down to Hermione. His soft lips almost touched her ear as he whispered softly,

“Thank you.”

Somehow, Hermione’s stomach fluttered strangely at Riddle’s closeness. Before she could react in any way, Riddle had bent up again and walked up the stairs to his room. Hermione stood alone in the common room, wondering about this very strange night.

 

**– o –**

 

Early next morning found Hermione sitting in the common room, reading a book. She looked up as she heard someone walking down the stairs. Subconsciously, a smile crept on her face as she watched Tom stepping into the common room. Hermione got up from the couch and walked over to him. Her brow creased as her eyes wandered over Tom. He looked better today. Not so pale anymore. She raised her hands and cautiously ran them over his chest, pushing his green and silver tie out of the way. Her brown eyes fluttered up to him and she asked in concern,

“It’s not hurting anymore, is it?”

Tom flashed her a smile, his white teeth glinting invitingly. Then he shook his head.

“No. I’m fine.” Hermione had never noticed how melodic Tom’s deep voice was. “Thank you for helping me and healing me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She glanced at him tentatively. “Actually, I should apologize.”

Tom arched an inquisitive eyebrow and Hermione continued timidly, “For… you know… not believing you that Rosier is such an ass.”

Tom chuckled. “He’s rather good at hiding it, isn’t he?”

A grin stretched Hermione’s lips as she looked up into his incredibly grey eyes. It was then that she noticed how close she stood to Tom. And her hands still lay against his chest. Instantly a heat wave hit her face hard and Hermione knew she was blushing.

“Er… Let’s… let’s go down for breakfast,” she mumbled, embarrassed.

Hermione quickly stepped away from Tom and hoped he hadn’t noticed anything. If he had, he didn’t comment on it. Together they left the Heads’ common room and meandered towards the Great Hall. Hermione was surprised at how  _natural_  it felt walking with Tom through Hogwarts’ corridors. He smiled a lot and asked her about her school work. Hermione simply loved to talk about her essays and home work, but normally no-one wanted to hear about it. Tom didn’t seem to mind, though. They even discussed the latest Transfiguration essay.

Soon they reached the Great Hall, but as Hermione entered Tom hesitated to follow. She turned her head and motioned for him to enter. Tom obeyed but threw nervous glances over to the Slytherin table.

“Hermione?” he asked softly. “Can I… can I sit with you?”

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she heard it. Getting suspicious, she looked over to the Slytherins. Rosier sat at the table, surrounded by his usual followers, and threw dark glares at Tom.

Smile on her face, Hermione peered up at Tom. “Sure. Why not?”

He returned the smile and followed her to her place at the Ravenclaw table. Hermione heard the other Ravenclaws whisper and murmur loudly as Tom Riddle, most popular guy in the school, really decided to sit with  _her_. Hermione could see bewildered expressions on their faces. Some of the girls even threw her jealous looks. A slight smile appeared on Hermione’s face. She gloated over the fact that all the people who always ignored her suddenly seemed to envy her.

“Thank you,” a velvety voice whispered into her ear.

Hermione peered up at Tom. Looking at his handsome face, she remembered how Rosier had attacked him. Suddenly, all the other students didn’t matter anymore. Hermione smiled up at Tom.

“You’re welcome.”

 

**– o –**

 

The next weeks were the most fun Hermione had ever had in Hogwarts. She spent an inordinate amount of time with Tom. The Slytherin probably just wanted to get away from Rosier. In any way, Tom wormed his way into Hermione’s life. More often than not he spent meal times at the Ravenclaw table. He would completely ignore the flirtatious looks of the other Ravenclaw girls and concentrated his attention solely on Hermione. Hermione would never admit it, but she enjoyed the jealous looks of the other girls. Tom also walked her to classes and sat beside her in every Slytherin-Ravenclaw class. He even accompanied her to the library and, for once, actually studied. Hermione supposed she was a good influence on him.

She had to admit, though, that Tom also had a very strong influence on her. He was very good at distracting her. On some days, Hermione completely skipped her library session. Then she would just sit with Tom by the Willow – the tree only grudgingly allowed it – and talk to him.

On one weekend, Tom managed to completely lure Hermione away from Hogwarts. It had been years since the last time she had gone to Hogsmeade. Tom insisted on taking her out, though. First, Hermione hadn’t wanted to join him, claiming she needed to write a Transfiguration essay. Tom hadn’t listened and had dragged her along. In the end, Hermione didn’t regret it. She quite enjoyed the trip. The smile on her face never left her as she strolled with Tom through Hogsmeade, ogling at the shop windows. She blushed, though, as Tom grasped her hand, his fingers gently curling around hers. Together with Tom, Hogsmeade certainly was a lot more fun to explore, Hermione decided as she followed the Slytherin out of Honeydukes.

“Here,” Tom said and fished a candy out of a bag he had just bought. “You’ve got to try this one.”

He offered her the chocolate and Hermione popped it into her mouth. The dark chocolate melted on her tongue.

“Mm,” sighed Hermione. “This is really good.”

“See?” Tom smirked haughtily. “I  _told_  you Hogsmeade would be fun.”

“Okay, okay,” Hermione said smilingly. “I admit you were right. Satisfied?”

“Very,” Tom drawled contently.

Hermione noticed how his gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. Tom smirked as he raised a hand and gingerly wiped a bit of chocolate from her lips. Hermione couldn’t help but stare up at him, mesmerized by his beautiful grey eyes. Somehow, it was only natural that Tom should bend down to her and place a feather-light kiss on her lips. Hermione’s head spun and there was a strange fluttery feeling in her stomach as she returned the kiss. As he felt her responding to the kiss, Tom snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the pressure of his lips against hers. Electric jolts pleasantly flashed through her whole body as Tom deepened the kiss. All thoughts fled her mind as she felt him rubbing his tongue against hers. Hermione snuggled closer against him and just let go, trusting Tom to hold her.

 

**– o –**

 

In retrospect, that day Hermione had spent with Tom in Hogsmeade had quite obviously been a date. After all, he had asked her out and had paid for everything. Hermione supposed that the kiss shouldn’t have come as such a surprise. In the end, though, it didn’t matter that she had been so obtuse, because after that date Tom became her boyfriend.

“Her-my-oh-knee?” Tom’s teasing voice drifted through Hermione’s thoughts.

She looked up from her textbook as someone sat down beside her on the couch in the Heads’ common room. Tom lounged on the sofa, head dropped back against the backrest, grey eyes scanning her.

“What?” she asked warily.

Tom smirked. “Are you finished with learning?”

Hermione threw him a reproachful look. “No.”

“Merlin, you’re still going on?”

He stretched his arms and yawned. Then, in a deliberate movement, he let himself slide down the backrest and allowed his head to fall into her lap.

“Tom!” cried Hermione and pulled her book away. “I’m working here.”

Tom snuggled closer to her, raised a hand and teasingly played with her curly hair. He smirked at her and proclaimed fastidiously,

“And I’m bored. Entertain me.”

“Honestly,” chided Hermione. “Can you tell me,  _how_  exactly did someone like you become Head Boy?”

“I don’t know,” replied Tom mischievously. “My theory is that Dippet is secretly lusting after me.”

Hermione drowned him in a withering look. It only made him snicker annoyingly. A sigh left her. Her eyes travelled over Tom’s handsome face until her gaze got stuck at his silky black hair. Hermione couldn’t resist. She raised a hand and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Okay,” she surrendered. “What do you want to do?”

 

**– o –**

 

NEWTs were still important to Hermione. She really needed to get ‘O’s in everything, but since had she got together with Tom, Hermione quite enjoyed allowing him to distract her from school work. This was also the only reason why she didn’t curse him as he, one day, dragged her out of the library, claiming that she had studied enough. Hermione only weakly protested.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he pulled her up a flight of stairs.

Tom looked at her and smiled. “To the Astronomy Tower.”

Hermione furrowed her brow. “Why aren’t we going to the Heads’ common room?”

He threw her a pitying look. “Because we spend every evening there. Seriously, you need to be a bit more spontaneous.”

Hermione pursed her lips sulkily, but Tom only laughed at her. Quickly, he pulled her up the steps until they reached the solitude of the Astronomy Tower platform. Tom strolled over to the edge of the platform. Hermione followed him and sat down beside him. Through the widely placed poles of the balustrade, they could look down at Hogwarts’ grounds.

Hermione snuggled closer to Tom. A content sigh left her lips as she leaned her head against his shoulder. He draped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. A smile curled Hermione’s mouth and she let her gaze wander over the Scottish landscape in front of them. In all her seven years at Hogwarts she had never taken the time to just enjoy this spectacular view. She had always been busy with classes, studying for classes or worrying about classes. Hermione laughed softly at the thought that, of all people, it now was Tom Riddle, her rival, who showed her that there was a life outside of school.

Tom bent down to her and pressed a light kiss on her temple. “What are you laughing about?”

Hermione peered up at him. The evening sun made his grey eyes glow in a red light. Hermione grinned.

“It’s quite funny that the ‘ _oh so cool’_  Tom Riddle is such a romantic, watching the sunset and all that.”

The small smirk, which Hermione had come to love, twisted Tom’s lips. He arched a haughty eyebrow and replied, “Believe me, sweet Hermione, nothing and no-one can destroy my reputation. Actually-” He flashed her his white teeth, “-I think my fangirls would just  _love_  to know that tidbit about me.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and nudged him lightly. “You don’t have fangirls.”

Tom didn’t reply but continued to smirk. They both went back to silently watching the sun slowly disappear behind the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. Hermione shivered when the sun was finally gone and night fell. Tom snapped his fingers and a warming charm fell over them.

“Tom?” she whispered cautiously.

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Hearing the insecurity in her voice, Tom looked down at her expectantly. Hermione swallowed nervously. This was something she had wanted to ask him for quite some time now, but had never found the courage to pull through.

“Look…” she said in a wobbly voice. “Um… you know that my parents are Muggles and… and that I’m a Muggleborn, don’t you?”

Tom blinked at her and tilted his head to the side. “Yes…?”

“The thing is…” Hermione breathed in deeply to calm her nerves. “I know you Slytherins don’t… well, don’t like Muggleborns that much. That’s not exactly a secret. And I wondered…” She peered up at him. “If you have a problem with that. Me being Muggleborn, that is.”

For a moment, Tom didn’t reply. He simply stared at her, face unreadable. A swoop of fear hit Hermione. What  _if_  it bothered him? What if he-

“Hermione,” Tom interrupted her panicky thoughts. “You know I’m not like the other Slytherins.”

He smiled down at her and possessively pulled her against him. Hermione’s face was buried into his chest, breathing in his pleasant scent. Tom’s fingers carded through her curly hair as he whispered,

“I don’t mind at all that you’re Muggleborn.”

Hermione put her arms around him, holding him tight. Now, she felt stupid. Of course, Tom wouldn’t mind. What had she thought?

There was a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. Hermione stared up at Tom’s handsome face. His fingers gently skimmed over her cheek as he gazed at her. Slowly, very slowly, a smirk crept on his face.

“How about I show you how much I don’t care?”

Pleasant shivers ran up and down Hermione’s spine, as his velvety voice washed over her. Still smirking, Tom bent down and kissed her. The kiss was demanding, almost aggressive, and he didn’t hesitate to deepen it. Hermione’s head swirled and desire curled around her stomach as she felt his tongue rubbing against her own. Tom’s hands wandered over her body, stroking and rubbing at places, until he found the buttons of her blouse.

As he slowly started to open them, Hermione knew that she wanted this and that it was the right thing.

With Tom.

 

**– o –**

 

For once, life was nice. The NEWTs still scared Hermione but her boyfriend always managed to calm her down whenever she had another breakdown.  _My boyfriend…_  Hermione was still not used to saying it. Tom Riddle really was her boyfriend. Over the course of a few weeks, he had grown to be one of the most important people in her life. Hermione was very happy. Tom was simply wonderful. A very caring, reliable, affectionate boyfriend and, when required, passionate too. Hermione trusted Tom, in everything. It was very surprising, considering how she had thought of him the first six years at Hogwarts, but now Hermione would really trust Tom with her life. That was how much Hermione loved Tom.

People said love is blind. Maybe that was also true for trust.

Hermione had been blind for a long time as, one day, her senses came back to her. It was after a long day of classes that Hermione tiredly returned to her room. Since the morning, no-one should have entered her room, still Hermione could feel something was wrong. The page in her Potions textbook, that she had left open on her desk, had been flipped over. An inkwell had been slightly moved. Her trunk hadn’t been closed correctly. One of her blouses had been folded differently. Those were small changes, which wouldn’t have meant anything at all, but combined they made doubt bubble up in Hermione. The Head Girl’s dorm was password protected. There were very few people who could enter her room. Dippet, for example, and Dumbledore, the deputy headmaster, and…

_The Head Boy._

Hermione could see neither Dippet nor Dumbledore sneaking into her dorm. Still, Hermione felt horribly guilty for even thinking about blaming Tom. Why would he need to break into her room? Hermione would have shared everything with her boyfriend. Tom only needed to ask and she would’ve given him anything. Anything at all.

…only, there was one thing that Hermione would never hand over to Tom. The ring. The golden ring with the black stone. Filled with pitch black magic, the dark object still sat in the Room of Requirement. Hermione hadn’t touched it since she had hidden it away. Neither had she talked to Tom about it.

Had he tried to regain it?

Hermione was disgusted with herself, but the doubts slowly started to gnaw at her. She resisted them, telling herself that Tom,  _her_  Tom, would never go behind her back. He was her boyfriend and he loved her. He had said so himself. Tom wouldn’t lie. One simply couldn’t fake emotions like that.

No. No, surely not…

The doubts didn’t leave Hermione. Like poison they tainted her mind. She couldn’t look at Tom anymore without wondering about the ring. She fought against her doubts but in the end her thirst for knowledge and truth prevailed. Hermione surrendered and soon found herself wandering towards the seventh floor.

Not much later, she was sitting in the Room of Requirement. The golden ring lay in front of her. Its dark magic washed unpleasantly over her. It stung her skin and angrily wrenched at her. Hermione didn’t react; she simply stared at the ring. She had spent so much time with Tom lately that Hermione had become well accustomed to him.

…and to his magic.

The dark magic, which now oozed from the ring, was terrifyingly familiar. Hermione felt sick as the magic prickled her skin. Raising a trembling hand, she reached for the ring. As the tips of her fingers touched the cold metal, like a flash, the dark magic invaded her. Hermione gasped in pain as that force raged through her body.

It was Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. His magic, all over her.

Hermione let go and numbly stared down at the ring. A hollow, empty feeling grasped at her and jabbed her painfully in the chest. For years and years, the library had been Hermione’s only friend in Hogwarts. She had read everything.  _Everything_. Sick curiosity had drawn her to the Restricted Section. There she had read dark words which now swirled through her head.

 _‘_   _Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction.’_

**– o –**

 

 


	3. Dare You Look Underneath?

Dark, disgusting and despicable, that was what Horcruxes were. A desperate measure for a desperate soul. Still, Hermione was not ready to judge Tom. She could be wrong. Hot tears welled up in her eyes until they rolled down her cheeks. Angrily she raised a hand and wiped them away. The ring still lay in front of her, mocking her.

Hermione furiously shook her head. It was  _not_  a Horcrux. She  _must_  be wrong. Tom creating a Horcrux? Ridiculous. Hermione glowered at the ring. It was Rosier’s. Just like Tom had told her. Rosier’s black ring. Traitorously, Hermione’s thoughts supplied her with answers where she had asked no questions. Horcruxes could not be destroyed or harmed by anything but the strongest poison and the darkest spells. Basilisk’s venom and Fiendfyre were the downfall of the soul piece. Insecurely, Hermione glanced at the ring. She needed proof.

_Proof that it was not Tom’s._

Fiendfyre burned everything,  _instantly_. Only the darkest creations could withstand it, if only for a moment. A Horcrux would – although, vainly in the end – fight against the cursed fire. Even the curse’s caster should be able to feel its struggle.

Hesitantly, unwillingly, Hermione pulled out her wand while never taking her eyes from the offending ring. She knew then, was  _convinced_ , that the ring would burst the instant the fire touched it. It was  _no_  Horcrux! Ignoring her frantically beating heart, Hermione raised her wand.

“Spiritus ignis.”

Flames burst from Hermione’s wand. Voraciously, they fed on her magic. A soft groan left her lips as she had to battle against the pull on her magic. If fed too much magic, the curse would slip out of control and rage until it had devoured everything. The hand that held her wand trembled with exertion as Hermione moved it and directed the furiously hissing flames over to the golden ring. Like a hungry beast, the cursed flames crept over the stone floor, greedily reaching out for everything they could burn and destroy.

As the flames reached the golden ring, Hermione felt a sharp tug at her magic. Air flickered with heat and the stone floor creaked under the force of the flames. In the middle of this inferno, Hermione could see the small ring. It glinted golden and looked pristine, untouched by the fire. The flames raged and hissed and demanded even more of Hermione’s magic.

Still, the ring resisted.

Hermione’s heart sank and all her hope drained from her as she saw the golden ring prevail. Through the fire and heat, she could feel the ring’s power fight her. A bit more and it would burst. A bit more and Hermione would lose control. She had no other option but to end the spell with a sharp wand movement. The flames howled and spit, but in the end they died, leaving behind a black spot on the stone floor.

Hermione was left behind, breathing heavily and feeling thoroughly empty. Heat was still radiating from the floor. In the middle of the charred-black stone floor, lay the ring, coated in a thin layer of ashes. Tentatively, Hermione wiped the ashes away. The golden ring was untouched. Already the Dark Magic oozed from it, greedily reaching out for Hermione. Her stomach flopped as she stared down at the horrible ring. It was still intact, unharmed.

There was her proof. This ring was a Horcrux.

Hermione breathed in deeply. Then she slipped the ring into her robe pocket before she stood up. It was time to confront the Horcrux’s creator

 

**– o –**

 

As if he knew of her plans, Tom was nowhere to be found in the castle. Hermione had searched the Heads’ quarters, the library, the Astronomy Tower… everywhere. She had even snuck into the Slytherin common room. It was as if Tom had fallen off the face of the earth. In her anger and frustration, Hermione left the castle. What drove her, she couldn’t tell.

Night had already fallen and Hermione wrapped her black robe tightly around her body. She  _would_  find Tom and she would make him tell her the truth. Her feet, or was it the cursed ring in her pocket?, led her into the Forbidden Forest. Deeper and deeper Hermione went until she heard voices. She should have turned around then, but she didn’t.  _Couldn’t_. The forest around her was dark, tall trees looming, but Hermione’s gaze was fixed on a group of people standing not far away.

The people stood in a circle around another person. That person stood tall, face half hidden beneath the hood of a black cloak. Hesitantly, Hermione left the shadows of the trees and stepped onto the soft grass of the clearing. The moon shone in a silvery light. The other people hadn’t yet noticed her as they were kneeling, faces turned towards their leader. Amongst the kneeling figures, Hermione spotted Marius Rosier. The so-called leader of the Knights of Walpurgis knelt on the floor, obviously awaiting orders. Reluctantly, Hermione followed his gaze and ended up staring at the true leader. Dark magic bristled around him. His magic was bizarrely mirrored by the ring in Hermione’s pocket.

“Tom?”

She flinched as her own foolishness destroyed the silence. The Knights whirled towards her, pulling out their wands. A smirk spread on the leader’s pale face as he removed his cloak’s hood. Hermione stood rooted to the ground as she stared at the leader of the Knights, at Tom. There was nothing left of the familiar softness on his face. His grey eyes were sharp and ice cold.

“Hermione,” Tom replied, malice twisting his voice into a hiss. “How nice of you to join us.”

To Hermione, Tom meant safety and  _home_. Now, though, she cowered away from him. His only reaction was vile amusement. His emotionless eyes wandered over her form, enjoying her fear, and stopped at her robe pocket.

“I see,” Tom said, his voice smooth but hard as steel. “You’ve brought something I dearly missed.”

His gaze kept her mercilessly imprisoned as Tom walked towards Hermione. His followers parted reverently to let him pass. Hermione was quaking in fear as her boyfriend… Tom… rival… her nemesis… stood in front of her. Fear coursed through her as she raised her face and stared into his cold eyes.

“Thank you,” Tom scoffed, cruel smirk tugging at his lips. “For bringing me back what is mine.”

With that, he reached for Hermione. She flinched fearfully as his hand slipped into her robe pocket. A frightening gleam burned up in Tom’s eyes as he looked at the golden ring in his hand.

“It’s a Horcrux,” Hermione stupidly whispered the truth, not really a question anymore.

Tom glanced at her. The evil smirk never dropped from his face. “Of course it is.”

Hermione bit her lower lip so hard it hurt as she peered up at Tom. “You lied to me.”

Tom snickered at her statement and inclined his head. “I did.”

Against her will, Hermione felt hot tears welling up in her eyes. She refused to let them fall.

“Why?”

“Because,” Tom supplied icily, “you were foolish enough to challenge me.”

Hermione sniffed pathetically and cursed the tears burning in her eyes. Tom’s steady gaze drank in her pain. He raised a hand and, in a mockingly gentle gesture, laid it at the back of Hermione’s neck. Tom leaned down to her and Hermione flinched as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

“No-one challenges me and wins.”

In a swift movement Tom grasped Hermione’s left wrist, fingers curling painfully tight around her. She gasped in surprise and pain as Tom forced the golden band onto her ring finger. Instantly, dark magic pierced Hermione’s body. The ring’s magic thrust into her, raging through her flesh and bones. It burned her and easily shredded through her feeble attempts to stop it. She barely noticed how Tom let go of her wrist and she fell down on her knees.

“Mm, Hermione,” Tom’s silky voice penetrated her pain. “My sweet, sweet Hermione, I like that  _look_  on your face.”

Agony blurred her vision as Hermione stared up at Tom. A sadistic expression twisted his handsome features. Her gaze dropped to the golden ring on her finger and Hermione desperately wrenched at it, trying to slip it off her finger.

“I’m the only one who can remove the ring,” Tom informed, voice laced with cruel taunt.

Ruthlessly, pain burned through Hermione’s body. Now fury was its companion. Her teeth were bared in a snarl as she glared at Tom.

“You are  _sick_!”

Rage drove her and Hermione made to grasp his legs, wanting nothing more than to hurt him. Tom simply stepped out of her reach. He snickered coldly down at her form. Hermione hissed furiously,

“Get the fuck away from me, Riddle.”

“Really?” scoffed Tom. “Last night you couldn’t get enough of me.”

Through her pain, Hermione could hear the Knights laugh cruelly at Tom’s words.

“You disgusting bastard!” Hermione yelled at him, nearly blinded by pain.

The magic coming from the ring on her finger gave a furious twitch, making her groan. Tears streamed down Hermione’s face. The pain was unbearable.

“Get on with it then,” she snarled, angry desperation in her tone. “That’s what you wanted all the time, isn’t it, Riddle? Finally getting rid of me?”

Another wave of pain hit Hermione hard and her body curled in on itself. Through a haze, she saw how Tom gestured for his followers to leave. Grudgingly, they obeyed, obviously disappointed to miss Hermione’s demise. When they were gone, Tom crouched down beside her, making her flinch away from him.

“Oh no,” he said silkily. “I do not wish to see you dead, Hermione. All those weeks you have been such a useful pet. I think I want to keep you.”

Terrible amusement burned in his grey eyes as Tom drank in the sight of her trembling body.

“You are mine, Hermione.” His voice was cold, unfeeling. “Mine to do with, whatever I want.”

Hermione whimpered softly as the ring on her finger burned forebodingly. Her left hand felt like it was on fire. The pain licked up her arm and cruelly spread over her whole body.

“It’s disgusting that you are a Mudblood,” Tom said lightly. “But you are a powerful witch. Very-” he leaned closer to her and Hermione shuddered as she felt lips nibbling at her earlobe, “-desirable.”

“Get off me!” she hissed weakly.

Tom merely snickered. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you your place soon enough, pet.”

His hand ran possessively through her hair. Then he stated, malice tinting his voice, “I admit, at first, I  _did_  plan to end you. I changed my mind, though.”

At his cruel words, Hermione disgustedly shied away from his touch. Tom didn’t care about that at all.

“You won’t be joining my Knights, of course,” he mused pensively. “Can’t have you soiling my ranks with your dirty blood. But don’t worry; I’ll make good use of you, my little Mudblood.”

“Fuck you,” Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.

“Tsk tsk.” Tom clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That’s no way to speak to your master, now is it?”

Another spasm of pain shot from the ring through Hermione’s hand and she cried out. Tears burned in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. Still she raised her eyes at Tom and glared at him.

“I’ll  _never_  follow you.”

Tom smirked down at her, cruelty burning in his grey eyes. The pain in Hermione’s hand grew to new proportions. Beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead. Her head swirled with pain and she felt the need to throw up. All the while, Tom calmly gazed down at her, obviously enjoying her agony.

“You  _will_  accept me as your lord and master,” he said, voice filled with malicious triumph.

Pain blinded Hermione. She couldn’t think straight, still, she forced a smirk on her lips and sneered,

“In your dreams, Riddle.”

She had barely ended that sentence, when a coughing fit hit her hard. There was a stinging pain in her chest and soon Hermione could taste the coppery tang of blood in her mouth. Slowly the coughing subsided and she greedily took in large gulps of air. Strangely enough, the horrible pain receded as well. Instead, a strange tiredness enveloped Hermione. She didn’t know what was worse, the pain from before or this hollow feeling that slowly pulled her into a dark abyss.

“You are pathetic, Mudblood,” Tom told her coldly.

The numbness got worse. Hermione’s thoughts got tangled and sluggish. She could feel heavy sleep approaching, wanting to push her into eternal darkness. Was this what Tom wanted?

“And you… are a soulless… liar,” Hermione whispered, struggling with the words. “Go… to hell… Riddle.”

Hermione’s head sagged to the floor and her eyes drooped. She weakly lay on the forest floor, her life bleeding from her, and waited for another scornful remark from Tom. Strangely enough, none came. Confused, Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open. She found Tom staring at her oddly. The mocking expression had left his face. Instead, a frown had appeared between his eyebrows. Somehow, though, Hermione wasn’t interested in his antics anymore. The tiredness washed everything away.

Silently, Tom slid closer to her. Hermione was so tired, she didn’t even have the energy to flinch away from him. Without a word, Tom reached for her hand. Hermione observed as he tried to slip the cursed ring from her finger. It wouldn’t budge and the frown on Tom’s face got deeper.

“Hermione,” he said sternly. “Did you do anything to the ring?”

Hermione felt as if her tongue had swollen up in her mouth and she could barely move her jaw to reply. She didn’t care about that stupid ring anyway. Hermione only cared for sleep and her eyes already wanted to shut. Tom again tugged at the golden ring, it still wouldn’t move. His eyes flashed to hers.

“What did you  _do_?”

Was there a hint of panic in Tom’s voice? Hermione looked up at him through hooded eyes. The agony had completely ebbed away. Only numbness remained. Not even her hand hurt anymore. In fact, Hermione could not feel her hand at all even though Tom violently tugged at the ring on her finger.

“Hermione!”

Now there definitely was panic in Tom’s voice. Hermione’s breathing was very slow and shallow. It cost her so much effort to look up at Tom. His face swam in and out of focus. It was strange that the cold, cruel look had left his features.

“Hermione,” Tom repeated urgently. “Tell me, what did you do with the ring?”

Hermione was much too tired to answer. She just wanted to sleep. Tom wouldn’t let her, though. He grasped her shoulders and shook her.

“Don’t sleep,” he ordered sharply.

“’m tired,” mumbled Hermione.

“I know, but you mustn’t sleep.”

Hermione didn’t know how she would accomplish such a miracle. Sleep already clouded her mind and she longed for it. Only dimly did she notice how Tom again grasped her hand. There still was that out-of-place concern on his handsome features as he studied her left hand and the golden ring. Hermione couldn’t stay awake anymore and started to nod off. Tom’s grey eyes flashed at her. Then he raised a hand and slapped her in the face.

“Do not sleep, Hermione!  _Please_.”

Hermione swallowed dryly. Her cheek stung, but even that sensation was oddly muffled. It was like she was slowly losing the connection with her body. Drifting away.

“Tom?” Hermione slurred, her mouth seemingly full of cotton. “Wha’s happ’nin’?”

He again tried to force the golden ring from her finger. It didn’t budge, as if fused with Hermione very bones.

“What did you do with the ring?!” Tom’s voice penetrated her sleep-muddled mind.

The tint of urgency in his voice made Hermione reply, “Wha’ ring?”

There was a gentle hand at her back before Hermione was hoisted up a bit. She struggled to keep her tired eyes open. Tom stared down at her, worry clear on his face.

“Please, Hermione.  _Please_ ,” he pleaded with her. “Try to remember. My ring… the  _Horcrux,_  what did you do to it?”

Even though Tom held her, Hermione felt as if she was falling. Everything swirled by and her thoughts got tangled in the mess.

“Hor… crux?”

Tom nodded frantically. “Yes! What did you do?!”

“’m… sorry…” Hermione mumbled. “Tried to… destroy…”

“You tried to destroy it?” Tom’s sharp voice temporarily cut through the haze. “How?”

Hermione’s eyes closed. All her energy spent, she could only breathe, “Fiend…”

“Fiendfyre?”

Hermione heard Tom’s voice as if he were far, far away. Her eyes were closed and darkness surrounded her. She couldn’t fight it anymore.

 

**– o –**

 

Pain.

Her hand hurt.

Her whole body throbbed agonizingly.

Hermione moaned softly and shuffled, trying to find a more comfortable position. It didn’t help at all. Everything hurt. It felt as if someone had tried to twist every single bone of her left hand out of their joints. A hiss of pain escaped Hermione’s mouth.

“Hermione?” a deep voice asked hesitantly.

There was a gentle hand cautiously brushing over her head. Hermione slowly opened her eyes, bright light blinding her. To her surprise, she found herself lying on the couch in the Heads’ common room. She could only blink stupidly as she found Tom, sitting at the edge of the couch, right beside her. It was his hand that so gingerly ran through her hair.

“How are you feeling?” he asked cautiously.

It was as Hermione spotted a hint of guilt in Tom’s eyes that all the memories rushed back to her. The golden ring. Finding out that it was Tom’s Horcrux. Trying to destroy it with Fiendfyre. Confronting Tom…

Hermione abruptly sat up on the couch. A piercing pain shot through her and she whimpered. Tom quickly reached for her, wanting to support her, but Hermione slapped his hands away.

“You!” she yelled at him, fury boiling up in her. “You tried to kill me!”

Tom raised his hands in a gesture of peace as he said, “It was an accident.”

“An accident?!” Hermione fumed. “As if!”

Her angry gaze wandered from Tom to her left hand. Horror washed over her as she saw the golden ring, still glinting on her finger. In panic, Hermione tried to rip it off her finger. The ring wouldn’t move at all. Her gaze snapped back to Tom and she yelled, anger and fear making her voice tremble,

“What did you do to me?!”

Tom eyed Hermione warily as if expecting she would lash out at him. She seriously considered it. Slowly he reached out for her hand. Hermione flinched away.

“I just want to show you something,” Tom soothed.

Hermione allowed him to grasp her hand. He turned it around, palm upwards.

“Here.” He pointed at the golden ring.

Hermione stared down at the cursed ring on her finger. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she saw a tiny crack in the gold.

“Your Fiendfyre didn’t fail completely,” Tom told her calmly.

Hermione angrily pulled her hand away and glared at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You managed to harm the Horcrux,” Tom explained cautiously. “The Fiendfyre wasn’t strong enough to completely destroy it, but you injured it.”

Hermione sneered at Tom, her fury rushing back to her full force. “I wish I had succeeded. Then you couldn’t have tried to kill me with your stupid ring.”

A soft sigh left Tom. Then he said, “I  _told_  you I didn’t try to kill you.”

Hermione snorted in disbelief. “Then what  _did_  you try to do? Certainly felt like dying.”

Tom again reached for her hand. This time, though, he simply held it.

“It was a mistake,” he admitted quietly. “I was angry with you. I reacted irrationally.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “I think it’s best you leave now.”

Tom’s fingers tightened around hers. “I didn’t know that you damaged the Horcrux.”

“Only concerned about your precious Horcrux, are you?” Hermione snarled, baring her teeth.

Tom shook his head. “Hermione, you did a lot more damage than you think. The Horcrux-,” he gestured at the offending golden band at her finger, “-was dying. You destroyed the ring, its vessel.”

“I don’t understand what you’re going on about,” said Hermione coldly.

“If I had known, I would have never slipped the ring onto your finger,” Tom continued gingerly.

“Why?” she asked gruffly.

“The soul piece tried to survive,” he explained, looking her deep in the eyes. “The ring was no longer available to secure the soul. So the piece of soul desperately searched for a life force it could feed on. With enough energy, a Horcrux is able to survive, even without its vessel.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with understanding. “Your Horcrux wanted to suck the life out of me, so it would be able to survive alone?”

Tom eyed her warily and nodded. Hermione’s mouth thinned into an angry line.

“Wonderful,” she hissed sardonically. “Just wonderful.”

Angrily she tugged at the golden ring. It still couldn’t be moved.

“So this  _thing_  is now glued to me or what?”

Tom shifted a bit on the couch. After a while he replied, “I managed to repair the ring. The piece of soul is once again sealed inside of it. But... yes, there’s still a connection between you and the ring. I can’t get if off you.”

Hermione stopped her attempts to loosen the ring. She raised her eyes and glared at Tom murderously. After a while, she stated dryly,

“So that’s a ticket to Azkaban for you, I think.”

 

**– o –**

 

In the end, Hermione didn’t deliver Tom to the Aurors. She didn’t even tell any teacher about his doings. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe she still had feelings for him, even after all the things he did.

 _…or the Horcrux-ring influences me_ , Hermione thought wryly as she glared down at the golden ring at her finger. It had been a week since Tom had forced that ring on her. A week for Hermione to ponder the events. Hot fury would always bubble to the surface whenever she thought about Tom’s aspiration for immortality. In the end, Hermione had sworn to herself that she would do everything she could to stop Tom from doing any more damage. She would stay close to him and whenever he drifted back to his villainous ways, she was prepared to curse the evil ideas right out of his head.

Hermione was startled from her thoughts as the entrance door to the Heads’ common room opened. She looked up and saw Tom entering. He smirked as he spotted her. Then he strolled over to her, sank down on the couch beside her and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

“Where have you been?” Hermione inquired suspiciously. “Up to no good?”

Tom quirked an elegant eyebrow and looked completely innocent as he replied, “I was just in the library.”

“Uh-huh,” was her sarcastic reply. “You didn’t have another of those  _gatherings_  with your lovely followers, did you?”

Hermione’s eyes bored into him. Her demanding stare didn’t make him cave in, though. The mask of innocence was firmly in place on Tom’s face.

“I still have that ticket to Azkaban with your name on it,” Hermione warned him. “So don’t do anything stupid.”

Tom smiled at her disarmingly. He slid closer to her on the couch and snaked an arm around her waist. Hermione didn’t stop him as he pulled her against him. Tom comfortable leaned against the backrest of the couch and Hermione ended up nestled into his chest. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against him.

“I never do stupid things,” Tom said while he ran his fingers through her bushy hair.

“No, you won’t,” Hermione agreed firmly. “Because if you try anything, I’ll be there to stop you.”

Tom hummed in reply, his fingers still carding through her hair. Hermione closed her eyes and snuggled closer to him. They sat like this for some time, in comfortable silence, until Hermione spoke up again.

“So...” she asked flippantly. “Are you planning to create more Horcruxes?”

Tom glanced at her, his grey eyes glinting mischievously.

“I might just.”

Hermione grimaced, crinkling her nose. Silence stretched between the two of them. Tom tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. After a moment, he asked gingerly,

“Will you try to stop me?”

Hermione didn’t remove her eyes from his. Her lips curled up into a smile. She raised a hand and ran her fingers over Tom’s cheek.

“I might just.”

 

**– o –**

 


End file.
